stimcrazy489216
Greenlighter
- Joined
- Aug 26, 2020
- Messages
- 5
My marriage to drugs started about 14 years ago when I was a teenager and started smoking pot and drinking. By the time I was 16 I was a daily hard liquor drinker, and when I was 17 I did my first line of coke. That same year, I saw my friend drop some coke in a vial of ammonia, and it the coke turned into a little lumpy marble, what I now know as crack cocaine. We smoked that first rock in a joint, and I remember being unimpressed with it, like it was a waste of coke. Soon thereafter, that same friend brought over a crack pipe to show me what his ammonia trick was really about, and at as soon as I tasted that first real blast of good crack, my dreams and goals, friend and family relationships, every aspect of life as I knew it was over. I spent the next 7 years working obsessively on any construction site that would pay by the day so I could go home and smoke. I forgot my friends, and my family eventually gave up after I relapsed constantly no matter what they said or did. I lived in a disgusting rooming house, in a terrible neighborhood infested with people even worse than me, ran by a slumlord for $100 a week. I spent those years either at work on a construction site, or in that room smoking the days pay, and at some point after the first year or two I gave up trying to quit the shit and just became ok with it, as long as I had at least $50 everyday except Friday when I needed $150 so I could pay rent and still grab a chunk on my way home. Then one day as I was walking home from the bus stop with my tools, I got pulled over because the cop thought I had stolen the tools. (As a sidenote, I didn't. I had actually bought them, and they were the only possessions I owned other than the clothes I was wearing that day. Definitely no judgement to those who steal, but I never got into it. I was always too scared id go to jail and they would take my dope, so I just found daily paying jobs and worked inhuman hours at illegally low wages to make myself employable) Long story short, I went to jail for possession of base cocaine, and possession of criminal tools (crack pipe). When I got out a few weeks later, I still had the days pay from when I got arrested and my phone was dead, so I went to a bar to charge it and call my boss and the dope boy I knew was most likely serve me instantly. At that bar I met a woman who thought I looked tough and cool, with my beat up clothes and toolbag next to me on a barstool, but she said I stank and needed to shower. So she took me home and within six months I was finally clean and sober. Within a year we had a struggling marriage, within a year and a half she left me because it turns out I was virtually skill-less and couldnt get a "real" job, and at some point after being clean and sober for less than three or four months I had started drinking very heavily again. Six months after she left me for good, I met another woman, but this one liked meth. A lot. I had been away from crack for a while, and meth was never my thing, so I tried it with her a few times and again was not impressed. Then I started smoking it to get more done at work, and doing lines at night because I was tired, and at some point I became a heavy meth user out of nowhere. A year went by like that. That's when I found two needles in her purse and boy was I shocked, and angry. I asked her about it and she acted like it was no big deal, she just did it that way instead of snorting or smoking all the time like me. No big deal she said, and I wanted to impress her so I went along with that idea and did my first dose of any drug via IV ROA. I was instantly obsessed with the needle. I stayed away from it when I first got out here to the middle of nowhere, but I met some users a few weeks ago while I was drunk and I bought an oz of some very high quality speed. Snorted some for a few days, until the syringes I ordered online arrived in my mailbox. Now, I have been shooting 4-5 times a day for about a month, always big shots cause I do things people shouldn't do. I know im playing with fire and I want to be as safe as possible, which is what led me to bluelight. She didnt teach me how to shoot very much at all, she didn't have to since I have massive veins and its beyond easy for me to get a good hit almost anywhere on either arm. I watched her do it once or twice and away I went, poking myself over and over like it was a normal thing most people do. I rotate sites and never using the same vein twice in one day, and use each rig once before I break off the tip and throw them away safely. Both my arms are always covered in makeup or long sleeves, I can't have people seeing my arms looking like ive spent the last month (or has it been longer than a month already? I honestly dont know) shooting up meth all day and night. I am down to a couple grams of dope in my safe, and I want to say I won't get more, but I need to educate myself on this better because ive been through addiction and this feels a lot like a real problem in my life. The only difference between my crack days and today it that now (Correction, for now) I have an actual job and can afford to buy a lot of dope if I so choose. I have met my best friend/new lover/most hated enemy, the needle. It has changed my whole perspective on drug use into a different animal than the one I already knew so well for so long. So here I am, spun out after a long shift, about to do another shot, researching how to do so without ending up dead or diseased or permanently damaged beyond repair in some way. And now strangers on the internet are the only people who I will ever tell the whole story to without lying or leaving things out that im ashamed of.
